Halo: Penance
by Outreach117
Summary: What does a Sangheili Zealot do when he finds that his entire life and purpose is a lie?  How does one find penance, and what truly IS the meaning of family to the Sangheili?
1. Prologue

_A/N: This is a story that has been a long time in the dreaming process. Unlike Wolverine Redemption, this particular Halo story will have completely original characters and storylines. While Redemption is by no means dead, it is going on ice as I flesh out a bit more of my writing skills here. John-117 is incredibly hard to write, the inevitable result is for most writers (myself included) to humanize him when he is superhuman. With that said Redemption will be going through some edits and rewrites but don't you worry, for the Halo junkies out there, I have a new present for you, so relax and enjoy! -_Outreach117

_"Were it so easy."-_Arbiter Thel 'Vadam

_Prologue_

_Human settlement _Persephone, _0223 hours March 19th, 2565_

Sounds at night were hardly a new thing around the fledgling human outpost, and Kenneth Day was hardly concerned. There were many ambient lifeforms that prowled the dusty and barren streets of the colony of only a hundred brave pioneers, that is if one could really call Persephone a colony. The streets were really nothing more than dusty well-beaten paths, and the colony was nothing more than a band of escape pods linked together in a fashion of a campsite.

It was more of a beautiful accident really. A science vessel named _Daedalus, _badly damaged in the Human-Covenant war, had made a blind jump to escape certain destruction by a pair of Covenant corvettes in the wake of the Battle of Reach. The jump deposited them in an uncharted system that was approximately 126.2 light-years away from earth. Not that it mattered since the ship had suffered irreparable damage in both the one-sided fight and the jump, and with no communications, navigation or FTL, returning home was impossible, so the crew abandoned ship on a marginally habitable world that was the 5th planet in the system. Warm and arid, yet it had life and a sustainable biosphere. It was enough, but only just.

Kenneth looked back at his still sleeping wife Tessia from across their makeshift bed, and their newborn son Boyd sleeping soundly in the middle. Kenneth had always been a light sleeper, a consequence of too many years fighting and running from the Covenant onslaught. He was a former UNSC marine and had seen it all: ground fights, zero-gee battle against boarders, and had even nearly lost his lunch doing more than one drop with ODSTs. Tessia had been part of the science staff onboard the _Daedalus_, and when it was apparent that returning home and to the fight just wasn't going to happen, they just sorta fell in together suddenly finding they had all the time in the world for love and decided to bring new life into the world. It was only when he heard a blood curdling scream from outside and the distinctly alien roars of jackals and brutes that the hair rose on his back and he found himself groping for the well-worn M90 shotgun he always kept at his bedside. Some habits just never died.

_Orbit_

Zinto 'Antra paced relentlessly back and forth on the bridge of the Sangheili Corvette _Dawn's Retribution_, anxiously waiting for the report to come in, the young Sangheili Ultra eager for battle again. Noticing a motion coming towards his direction from his left, Zinto turned at the form of his father, the veteran Zealot Crtas 'Antra, who was also the Shipmaster of _Dawn's Retribution_, approaching him.

Both father and son were veterans of many battles. Crtas had seen action on the human world Reach during its conquest, Delta Halo, the human homeworld, the Ark along with countless other battles against the Jiralhanae, Kig-Yar and the Prophets. Zinto was also an experienced fighter, and the youngest of Zinto's three sons, and also the last alive. His eldest son Rango 'Antra had perished on the Alpha Halo, killed by the great human Demon himself onboard the _Truth and Reconciliation_, a glorious death worth praise and remembrance. His second son Vonten 'Antra fell in battle defending the Councilors on High Charity, another glorious death. Crtas felt anguish at the loss of his two sons as any father world, but also felt great pride that they met their ends in ways that many Sangheili dream for, but rarely achieve. Even deeper down still though he dreaded losing Zinto. The house of 'Antra, while not as large or influential as some of the others on Sanghelios such as 'Vadam, 'Moram or 'Vadum, had been a steady producer of some of the greatest and most skilled Zealots and Ultras for the Covenant and now the Sangheili Hegemony for centuries, and what good was a house if all of its sons were dead with no children to follow on?

Saluting his father with a fist to the chest, Crtas looked past his son and at the holographic projection of the planet below, analyzing the situation and deciding on a course of action. The _Retribution_ had tracked a lone Jiralhanae frigate to this world, both of their arrivals having not been a coincidence. Since the end of the Human-Covenant war, the Sangheili had nevertheless continued their campaign to collect Forerunner artifacts along with beating back the Jiralhanae and Kig-Yar. There were literally thousands of relics scattered throughout the galaxy, and this barren planet was supposed to be host of several. Unfortunately that was seemingly not the case, although the Jiralhanae frigate in system had the same idea. It was the last mission for that frigate though, as the _Retribution_ had swiftly and efficiently tore the frigate apart, but not before the frigate had launched several Phantom-class dropships filled with Jiralhanae and Kig-Yar troopers. Surprising still was the presence of a very small human settlement on the northern hemisphere of the world.

"The frigate is destroyed, father. There are no relics here, shall we set a new course?" The elder 'Antra's non-response was enough to provide the young Ultra his answer. "But why, father? There is nothing here but a barren world and a few worthless _humans_ and dirt! Surely you do not intend some kind of rescue mission?"

The elder eyed the display for a bit longer before speaking. "My son, how can you be so skilled yet so foolish at the same time? Our objective has been to win the war. There are Jiralhanae and Kig-Yar down on that planet which we have failed to extinguish, and humans are not as worthless as you give them credit for. They are sapient and adaptable, and their Demons have killed many times their number, your brother among them." Zinto opened his mouth to speak but his father cut him off and kept on going. "They are far more capable than you and indeed many of our brothers give them credit for. You are still young Zinto, you have never really seen humans fight before, much less one of their Demons. You also forget that whether you approve of it or not, they are the children of the Forerunners like we are, and as such are drawn to the relics as well. Perhaps the have already found something."

Crtas paused and looked back at the barren world, still considering although his mind was made. There was another mission at hand though, repentance. He was a Zealot, indeed most of the house of 'Antra was composed of Zealots, but Zealots were created to serve the Covenant and be the hands of the Prophets, and were the most fanatical of fanatical followers of the Prophets perverted religion. With the dissolvement of the Covenant and their "religion" completely washed away, most Zealots were unsure of their purpose. Some opted to fight and serve in other areas of the Sangheili military, or retire from the military completely. Others felt great shame at embarrassment and opted to take their own life, and others that were the age of Crtas, too old to start life anew and too young to consider retiring instead opted to find another purpose, and something told him that he would find his purpose on that planet.

Standing straight up to his imposing 8 foot, 9 inch height, Crtas gave his orders. "To the pods!" As one the sangheili crew roared, eager for battle and made their ways to the drop pods. Crtas would kill every last Jiralhanae and Kig-Yar on that planet, and if he was able to find penance in saving the humans, then perhaps he might be able to sleep soundly for the first time in almost twelve years.

_Persephone Colony_

The sounds of screams and death became louder and louder, and Kenneth felt that black ball form in his stomach, knowing what the end probably would be but he also knew one thing for sure, at least a few of those Covenant bastards were going to die. His door flew open and a Jackal pair entered into his small dwelling, their circular shields illuminating their birdlike features along with the darkened pod. Cocking his M90 the first of the two went down with a head full of buckshot, the second squawked in surprise followed immediately by a combat knife in its throat, and fell to the deck gurgling. Kenneth deftly pulled the combat knife out just as a massive Brute captain burst into the dwelling, spraying spikes around the confined cabin. Kenneth cocked his M90 again, but only to have the weapon ripped from his hands by the immensely stronger alien in power armor. Drawing his knife he charged the Brute and plunged the blade to the hilt into the beasts chest right between the armor plates. It wasn't enough as the massive brute had simultaneously impaled Kenneth all the way through the back with the twin blades on the spiker.

Tessia was hardly powerless however, and from a covered position behind the bed and putting herself between the Brute and her baby, she let out a burst from her BR-55.

Her shot was accurate and the first two took off the Brute's helmet completely, the last shot ventilated its skull and the giant beast fell to the ground in a blood heap. Tessia followed suit, her abdomen having been ripped open by a quartet of spikes, the only thing having kept her alive long enough for the shot being adrenaline and the unshakable mother's drive to protect her child. Boyd wailed loudly and alone at the noise and the gunfire, but was drowned out by the sounds of screeching Covenant pods that landed throughout the settlement.

_Pods_

Zinto unslung his plasma repeater has his pod blasted open, rolling out and to one knee as his aimed down the sights and let out a long and accurate burst at a pair of Kig-Yar, their shields flaring and failing, and then their bodies falling to the ground peppered with plasma hits.

Spinning rapidly to his left he let out another long burst at a Jiralhanae minor, the unarmored beast needing only a few well-placed shots to go down. A roar to his back caught him by surprise, but not so much as the blade that now jutted out from his chest from the brute shot in the hands of the Chieftain that had just ran him through, and everything went black.

Crtas saw his son go down, and in a blood rage roar charged the damned Chieftain head on. Crtas ignited his two energy swords as he sprinted, an unstoppable force of death and anger. The Chieftain deftly yanked the giant blade from Zinto's unmoving body and brought the business end of the brute shot around and took aim at Crtas, but he was not nearly fast enough. Crtas crashed into the Chieftain, knocking the brute shot away while simultaneously dismembering the Chieftains legs with a pair of skilled swipes from his dual glowing blades. The alien went down with a howl in pain that was quickly extinguished by another decapitating blow that left the Chieftain without a head.

Crtas fought the desire to check his son's body, emotion telling him one thing and rational thinking telling him that he was already dead and not focusing on the battle would only lead to more deaths. Slowly getting to his feet he re-ignited his blades and charged off towards the sound of battle.

_Aftermath_

The operation had been a success one part of Crtas's mind told him. A combined kill of over sixty Kig-Yar and Jiralhanae with only a handful of losses. _No, it was a tragedy, a failure_ as he walked past the inert bodies of his fallen brethren, his son being among them. The Sangheili had arrived too late, the Jiralhanae and Kig-Yar had already killed all the humans in the settlement. The bodies were laid out in a row awaiting retrieval on a pair of Phantoms that had been launched by the _Retribution_ to recover the warriors.

A strange noise caught Crtas's attention from the primitive dwelling a few feet away from where the bodies stood. It did not sound lethal, but it was a wailing of sorts, clearly human in nature. Igniting one of his two swords and unsure of what to expect, he entered the dwelling. Before him was a sight of carnage. Two dead humans and a pair of dead Kig-Yar and a Jiralhanae Captain with a combat blade still sticking out of its chest where the human male had impaled him. _A losing fight, but brave. They deserve respect_, Crtas absent-mindedly mused as he made his way closer to the sound. Nearing the noise he found the human's mate, also dead with spikes jutting out of her body, still grasping her primitive projectile weapon. Next to her, a human infant and the source of the sound.

It cried loudly, and Crtas for the first time in his life felt genuine confusion. Extinguishing his blade he walked back outside, the bodies of his dead comrades still at his feet. He looked back at the dwelling, up to the stars, back to the human home again and once more up to the stars. _They displayed courage and strength and resolve. Could it be? _Glancing once more at his son's body he looked at the sky again and there was a wink from the sky as the star he was staring at twinkled brightly. _A sign, this cannot be ignored!_ Walking back into the dwelling, Crtas scooped up the human infant into his arms which almost immediately ceased crying, and he instinctively knew what he had to do. This human would be his penance, his future. Wrapping the child in some blankets, the old Zealot stepped out into the cold, dark night.


	2. Reclamation

_A/N: Keeping up the pace, don't get spoiled but enjoy it thoroughly!-_Outreach117

_"On the blood of our fathers. On the blood of our sons."_-Sangheili Ultra's Mantra

_Chapter 1_

_Star System J729, uncharted. Potential Forerunner artifact planet orbit. 1923 hours October 3rd, 2586._

Rhokte 'Antra checked the systems in his Seraph scout ship the _Pyre Light_ for perhaps the seventh time as he completed a third orbit around the planet below him. The world was rather unremarkable from the naked eye in orbit, but was beautiful at the same time if one knew what to look for. The sensors were alive with activity, multiple ruins of Forerunner structures dotted the landscape below, although it was not the planet or even the remains of the Gods that interested him. Rather it was station that remained in geosynchronous orbit that was just coming into view over the horizon that interested him.

Switching his displays and magnifying the now visible station, Rhokte felt a wave of awe and inspiration wash over him as indeed all Sangheili felt in the presence of artifacts of the Gods, except this one was special. Rhokte was on a mission, his Right of Ascension, essentially his passage into adulthood that any Sangheili seeking status must go through. There was no real format for the Right, one simply had to be able to prove their worth to the Sangheilian people in some manner.

For the favored, that may mean something as simple as a display of combat skill or marksmanship in what was usually a less-lethal battle against other hopefuls. For those who were on the fringe like Rhokte, it meant taking a Seraph out on a perilous journey to bring back some great relic or artifact of the Forerunners, the Gods. Unfortunately for Rhokte, the vast majority who took the path he had set out on never returned, or returned with relics that were marginally acceptable in value. His situation was unique, he had to make a statement, he had to do something special.

He had been in space alone in his Seraph for almost three months, jumping from system to system, hoping to find anything of value, and here in the orbit he believed that he may just have stumbled across the proverbial Grail of relics, if his understanding of the human word _grail_ was correct. He didn't know exactly what was inside of value, but the last system that he had flown through had a small Forerunner research facility located in orbit. The environment of the station had long since fallen into disrepair and disarray, and it had been an arduous three hours in zero-gee and vacuum trying to gleam anything of value from the computer banks. He had almost come back empty-handed but right before the ancient computers died completely he had been able to dig out a few coordinates of at least what he understood to be a sacred artifact, a great weapon, even to the Forerunners themselves.

Unfortunately the coordinate data was hardly useful as it is, it had taken insurmountable amounts of calculations to factor in the hundreds of thousands of years of galactic drift since the galaxy hardly stayed still, and almost half a dozen jumps into barren star systems until finally locating the station here. Even then he had no idea if it was really the right station or if it contained what he believed, but it was an opportunity.

Standing up from the oversized seat Rhokte took an opportunity to stretch his back, hours of sitting had made him restless and stiff, and deep down he craved nothing more than to be planetside back on Sanghelios, especially with a triumph march. Turning back towards the console he set the Seraph on an rendezvous vector with the station, and he worked his way back through the cramped confines of the _Pyre Light_ towards his quarters to start suiting up. Entering into the lone quarters he quickly disrobed and began to assemble his armor piece by piece. Since he had no idea of the stability or life support ability of the Forerunner station, Rhokte opted for his modified suit of Ranger armor, complete with a fully sealed environment and pressure helmet. Sangheili armor was easy enough to don on one's own. There was an undersuit that provided both protection against vacuum and extremes in temperature, as well as resistance to both plasma and high-speed projectiles. The various armor pieces from the venerable combat harness, gauntlets, gators, shoulder pauldrons and helmet simply snapped and locked into place overtop the bodysuit, the armor pieces sealing to the suit via a molecular bond that provided a perfect seal yet allowed a complete freedom of movement.

Lowering the helmet over his head and snapping the seal closed, the HUD lit up providing him basic information on his armor's status, namely shield strength and the integrated motion-tracker built into the helmet itself. Rhokte kept the shields powered down for the time being, at least not until his was ready to disembark. Walking over to a weapons locker he selected out his armament. On his right thigh he strapped a plasma rifle, having long ago appreciated the rapid-fire ability of the weapon to efficiently drain the shielding system of any opponent. He then attached a quartet of plasma grenades to his left thigh armor, the magnetic plates keeping the grenades in place. For his primary weapon Rhokte selected the exotic needler rifle along with a couple handfuls of magazines which he latched to the magnetic plates on his chest harness for quick access. While most in the Sangheili military had long adopted the Type-51 carbine for the faster muzzle velocity and better shield penetration, Rhokte preferred the needler rifle's ability to supercombine on any unshielded opponent, even at range.

Slinging the still unloaded rifle to his back, Rhokte closed the weapons locker except for one final and very unusual addition to his already impressive armament, a human combat knife. It had been a gift from father, claiming that it had saved his life once when he was very young, and that while Rhokte wasn't especially superstitious, a noble weapon was a noble weapon. The blade shined silver, the edge having long ago been shaped to molecular sharpness thanks to endless attention on Rhokte's part. While physical blades were a real rarity in the Sangheili military as well, Rhokte had always appreciated the quiet simplicity of a simple sharp blade that didn't give off the characteristic crackle, glow and hum from an energy blade, a fact that had made him absolutely lethal and stealthy, even without the use of active camouflage.

Rhokte stood there admiring the blade for another long moment, feeling the balanced weight in the palm of his hand until a beep from the cockpit brought him back to awareness of the mission at hand. Twirling the blade in his five-fingered hand in a fashion that only a human could, Rhokte 'Antra walked back towards the waiting cockpit and his birthright. _I will make father proud,_ he thought to himself._ I will make Sanghelios see. I am Reclaimer!_


	3. Lost Honor

_A/N: Will try and make this one a bit longer. The timeline will be skipping back and forth to fill up the gaps.-_Outreach117

_"I like crazy."-_Cortana

_Chapter 2_

_Forerunner Orbital Laboratory, Star System J729 Uncharted, 2103 hours October 3rd 2586_

Rhokte 'Antra's five fingered hands played deftly across the controls of the _Pyre Light_ and guided the small scout ship into what appeared to be a hangar bay on the derelict station. Bringing the ship to a stop he stood up from his seat and made his way to the back of the Seraph. Reaching out with his fingers he tapped a few controls and the ground below him gave way to a small gravity lift that lowered him the deck of the station.

A wave of excitement and awe came over Rhokte as his booted feet touched the glimmering metal, his reflection playing off the glyphs drawn all over the facility, and he had to fight an incredibly strong urge not to fall to his knees. _Focus, keep focused on the task or this entire odyssey will be for nothing_, Rhokte thought to himself. Shouldering his needle rifle he started off on a trot towards the entrance to the center of the station, his energy shields shimmering to life around his body.

Taking a moment to glance around and appreciate the sights, he could see the station's spiney and needlelike body extend upward almost two kilometers, and a further kilometer below him. A blue beam of energy was running through the station's vertical spine and extending to the planet below, an obvious gravity tether to keep the station in geosynchronous orbit and also perhaps to allow for a space elevator to move equipment to and from the surface quickly and efficiently.

Coming up to the main entrance of the station, the control console for the massive double doors shimmered to life, displaying colorful icons and glyphs and that while Rhokte couldn't read them, they somehow just _seemed_ familiar. Father had talked about it before, that the knowledge of the Forerunners was encoded or even imbued in all life and every sapient species had the rudimentary understanding of Forerunner technology. Extending a slender finger towards the console, Rhokte uttered a small prayer for guidance from the Gods and followed his instincts as he tapped a seemingly random set of codes into the console. Feeling a rumble and then a loud screeching of metal on metal, for the first time in almost ten eons the doors slid open...

_Twenty One Years Earlier_

...and Crtas 'Antra entered into the bridge deck of the _Dawn's Retribution_, the human infant still nestled into his arms, sleeping soundly. The baby had cried a few times one the flight back from the planet, much to the chagrin and annoyance of Crtas as well as his Sangheili brothers, and but had mercifully been rather cooperative once they had stopped moving and landed on the _Retribution._ Crtas was not completely unfamiliar with infants, even alien infants. The Covenant, as by definition being a collection of multiple alien species, had extensive knowledge and experience in dealing with species of different races and xenobiology.

Sometimes it proved to be a logistical nightmare, the Unggoy being a prime example in that they needed their breathing apparatus since they were in the galactic minority in that they only breathed oxygen, to say nothing for the different breeding habits of the various species. Sangheili as well as the Kig-Yar laid eggs, typically in clutches of one to four due to the Sangheili being a saurian species, and the Kig-Yar avian. Unggoy, Jiralhanae, San 'Shyuum and even the Humans all gave live birth. The Yanme'e and Lekgolo were perhaps the most unique in that the former laid eggs like insects in sacs that counted in the hundreds although only a few dozen would ever survive the hatching, and the latter reproduced using a form of mitosis. All in all, given the Covenant's history and experience in dealing with these various cultures and biologies, raising a human child would be somewhat similar in some regards to the other member races, in theory at least.

Crossing the bridge archway and heading to his personal cabin, a few onlookers turned their heads towards the newest member of the crew, although none dared to question Crtas, a few even sympathized with him he suspected, although not publicly to risk ridicule and defacement. _Let them think what they want, I know what I must do._ His cabin doors slid open promptly and just as quickly closed behind him. Crtas had other motivations as well. In his various experiences as a Zealot he had found that most areas that the Gods had placed their most sacred artifacts, something called a _Reclaimer_ was needed. For hundreds of years the Covenant had scoured the galaxy searching for Reclaimers, and when they found them, his people had battled them to near extinction. Looking down on the baby Zinto realized that he had found a potentially valuable tool for his family. If the baby could survive and pass the trials that even a Sangheili would find difficult, he could literally become not just a Reclaimer, but _the_ Reclaimer.

The child stirred in his arms and gave a soft squeak as it looked up at him, but surprisingly did not cry out in fear. Crtas had expected and prepared for the child to wail endlessly as most other species infants did, but instead the baby reached out and latched onto one of his long powerful fingers with a chubby hand and squeezed. A wave of emotions flooded through his mind as his thoughts wandered back to similar experiences with his own sons, and while Sangheili did not have tear ducts or cried like humans did, they did however experience strong emotions, and Crtas noticed that the clawed hand the baby had latched onto trembled slightly.

"So what shall we call you?" Crtas spoke aloud as much to himself than to the child still in his hands, although to the baby the pitched and rapid _worts _along with other sounds and syllables that made up the Sangheili language was completely undecipherable, and the baby merely cooed back. Crtas 's quadrouple mandible's curved up in a crude imitation of a smile as he pondered himself. Yes, the child could be a Reclaimer, but he was also his Penance. Penance...a word that when roughly translated and spelt in English came out as Rhokte. "Rhokte...you shall be known as Rhokte 'Antra, the Penance of Zealots and Reclaimer of the Legacy." The baby merely cooed in response, and the weight of the past twelve hours finally got the better of the veteran Zealot and he broke down and whimpered.

_Now..._

Rhokte cautiously worked his way down the ominously empty hallway of the starbase, the shadows and reflections bouncing off his gleaming silver armor and cyan faceplate. The atmosphere had proven to be intact within the station, and given the immaculate condition of most of the facilities here, it was fairly obvious that an Oracle or another Holy Caretaker was here along with Sentinels or other maintenance robots to keep things in superior shape. It was a contrast that he had seen all too often before, facilities like the Delta Halo that lacked an active Oracle fell into disrepair, but others like the Alpha Halo and so many other relics that his father had talked of that were in pristine condition almost always had _something_ left behind.

Historically Zealots had always been attacked when entering those areas, having been deemed "Meddlers" but humans were almost always the exception to this, although few Sangheili were prepared to admit such things which for some of the more devout went down about as well as a straight glass of lemon juice. All this made for a very tense situation and his lone sojourn into the unknown all the more critical to bring back _something_ of value. If he didn't not only would 'Antra face disgrace, but more than likely he wouldn't even survive the return.

_That will NOT happen. I am Reclaimer!_ Rhokte thought to himself as he continued down the hallway. An electrical humming sound reached his ears and Rhokte spun around, his needle rifle raised and elevated, but the muzzle slowly lowered as his eyes perceived the shiny round orb that floated down from the ceiling towards him. Falling to a knee in respect in front of the holy Oracle, Rhokte looked up slowly as the round orb came to face level with him. A dazzling display of lights shot out from the glowing green eyepiece that was the center of the construct's body. _Obviously some kind of scan, the Oracle is judging me worthy_ Rhokte mentally spoke to himself.

After what seemed like years which in reality was only a few seconds the scanner turned off and the Oracle spoke. "Greetings Reclaimer. I am 729 Unyielding Metal. I am the Monitor of this installation. How may I be of assitance?"

Rhokte's mind was a maelstrom of emotions and thoughts, _the Oracle is addressing me, ME! And it calls me a Reclaimer!_ Slowly rising to his feet and the Oracle floating up as well to keep its glowing eye level to his faceplate, Unyielding Metal waited for the Reclaimer's response. "I am here, holy Oracle, to reclaim our lost Honor."

The floating silver sphere merely let out an electric chuckle as it buzzed once around Rhokte's head and moved down the hallway. "Of course, Reclaimer. Right this way."


	4. Homecoming

_"I would like to see our own world. To know that it is safe."_-Spec Ops Commander Rtas 'Vadum

_Chapter 3 _

_Sanghelios low orbit, 2139 hours, March 31st, 2565_

Crtas felt the dropship rattle slightly as it raced through the thicker layers of the lower atmosphere of Sanghelios. The slipspace jump had been a fairly short one aboard the _Retribution_, barely a week and a half when some jumps could take up to a month or more depending on the length. _A human settlement so close to our own borders and completely undetected, who knows how long we would have spent fighting and flushing them out from the galaxy._ In his arms Rhokte stirred and wailed slightly at the rumbling and noise from the rapidly descending dropship, causing a round of low growls from the other sangheilians on board, but their complaints were quickly silenced by a stern look from Crtas who rocked the child gently in his arms.

Sangheili children were hatched from eggs and were vicious almost from the day of being hatched, operating on primal instinct and could run, hunt and eat pretty much from the moment of birth and were fully self-sufficient. The tradeoff was that it took years quite literally to overcome their basic instinctual impulses, and nurturing sangheili young and molding their behavior was often a painful and memorable experience and no parent ever had a child without at least a few bleeding lacerations from bites and slices to show for it. Crtas suspected that while human children were probably more helpless and lacked basic instinct like sangheili children, that behavior and development would come considerably quicker and easier to Rhokte.

He had not informed his life partner, Junta 'Trnee, about the newest member of the family just yet. He had also been equally silent about the death of Zinto, something he knew that his love would take very, very hard. Crtas and Junta were not married and legally could never be, courtesy of his sword bearing status. It was a peculiar aspect of Sangheili culture. Those that held the greatest respect were barred from marrying to ensure that they remained eligible and thus were able to spread sword-bearing genes to upcoming generations. That was the theory at least, although some took the unorthodox approach of remaining exclusive and effectively being married in all respects except in title. Junta and Crtas had been one such example and while her parents had been disapproving, they ultimately had decided that if she were to be committed to someone, it may as well be a zealot as distinguished as Crtas who clearly loved Junta and had shunned some _very_ interesting prospects to stay with her. He could have even become the next Kaidon of the 'Antra house, but his love for Junta proved the victor in that particular fight and neither of them could have been happier from the result.

Now, as the dropship touched down, a black ball began to form in Crtas's stomach as he began to form in his mind how he would inform his love that their last natural son was dead and that he had adopted an alien war orphan as his new son based on an sign he saw all in the same sentence. He had been the most accepting and understanding of his three son's deaths, Zinto, Rango and Vonten. All three had died gloriously on the field of battle, an end that many young Zealots could only dream for, but it still had cut him deeply, more deeply than he ever would want to let Junta know. In each case she had shed enough grief to cover them both as any mother would, but her love of Crtas had kept her together. This time he had no idea how she would react. Zinto was her last natural son, and both she and Crtas were well past child bearing years. Looking down at his new son that had again fallen silent once the noise had stopped, the baby looked up and smiled and grasped one of his fingers with a chubby hand very strongly, and deep down he suspected that Rhokte was going to have to be the strong one today.

_'Antra Estate_

The soft knock on the door told Junta all she needed to know, her son was dead. _By the Lords, please, grant me strength and courage_ she thought to herself as another soft knock at the door resounded through the home. She had been partnered with Crtas for more than forty-six years, and he never, ever knocked gently on his own door unless he had some very bad news to share. By tradition when the fighting men returned to their families, they would knock and request permission to enter their homes again. If their deeds and actions during battle were considered sufficient, they were granted access. If they had displayed a sub-par performance in battle, they were banned from the home, at least for a period of time. It was an effective motivator to keep the warriors spry since no warrior wanted to return home from combat merely to be shunned.

A third knock brought her out of her trance as she slowly rose to her feet and paced towards the door, her feet shuffling against the smooth stone floor of their small estate that was nestled in the countryside. The dwelling was ancient, dating thousands of years back and had been destroyed and rebuilt no less than six times in its history. The ancient Zealots of house 'Antra bordered the lines of the much more powerful and influential 'Vadam family, and during the feudal warring ages of ancient Sangheilios, this property had traded hands many times until the First Age of Reclamation had ended. Regardless, the view of the rolling arid foothills was spectacular, and it remained a constant 92 degrees Fahrenheit with almost zero humidity throughout the year. Uncomfortable standards by most species, but the saurian Sangheili thrived in this weather.

Opening up the door, Junta's fears were confirmed as Crtas stood at the entranceway, alone, holding a bundle in his arms. His face was downcast forlorn and clearly tired. Still in forty-six years she had never, ever shut the door on him when returning from a deployment and she had known that every failure, every loss he carried with him like a great weight and she loved him too much to add to that burden. Wordlessly she stepped aside and motioned him in, noticing the small white five-fingered hand that grasped one of Crtas's elongated fingers. She knew immediately what it was, although she blinked a few times in amazement. She deftly scooped the baby from Crtas's hands and took the child into the common area, Crtas relinquishing Rhokte without any complaint.

He already knew that she knew what he had done and why, and as the ever-supportive woman that she was would only continue to support him. She loved him, and that was all that mattered. Junta was also perhaps the most qualified individual he could hope to trust with Rhokte's life, having come from a distinguished family of scientists and a renowned xenobiologist in her own right. In fact she had written more than one paper on comparative anatomies, humans being her specialty. While her studies had been purely academic they had been scooped up by the Covenant military at the time, much of her research being used by interrogators, a fact that in hindsight, she was none too proud of. At the time the humans were her sworn religious enemies and while perhaps she was not the devout religious fanatic that Crtas was thanks to her more scientific upbringing, she had felt at the time it was her patriotic duty to the Covenant to provide any bit of intelligence that she could to aid in the war effort. Now, it was being used towards child rearing. The irony was almost too much to bear.

_Later..._

Crtas stood out on the back patio watching the twin suns of Sangheilios set in the distance, the land turning a gold, amber and eventually a rusty color in the twilight. He had long since changed out of his Zealot armor and now wore a simple set of robes and no shoes. He dug his feet into the loose sand that covered the cobblestone patio and sighed, home was home. Junta had taken professional care of their new son by bathing the child, feeding it using a Unggoy style food nipple and nutrient suppliment and Rhokte now rested comfortably on a small bed that had seen many years of service for his three other sons. She had done all this wordlessly and any effort by Crtas to help was met by a cold stare. _She is grieving, give her time, she will come to you as always._

Movement at his side caught his attention and he turned to his left to face Junta who now joined him on the patio and stared wordlessly into the setting sun. He analyzed her face for what seemed like an eternity, she had always been impossible to read and this was one of the many other things that Crtas felt so attracted to about his chosen partner, but now it felt almost like a wedge was between them.

Crtas spoke first, "how is Rhokte?"

Junta turned her head slightly to the side and then faced the sun again before speaking again. "Penance? Our son is dead, our bloodline and legacy ended with Zinto. Perhaps you should have named him grief."

Crtas had been expecting this conversation all day, but all the preparation did little to assuage the assault on his emotions that he knew was coming. "There as a sign, love. I feel deep sorrow at the loss of our last son. But there was a sign, and hope." His voice and tone was gravelly in quality, and he sounded more like he was trying to convince himself rather than her of its truth.

"A sign? Are you seeing things in your old age?"

"No, love. I just see more clearly."

Junta stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Crtas as emotions took over and she began to wail gently. The old Zealot returned the embrace and held Junta as if she were the only thing in the world that mattered to him, and in many ways she was.

"What will he become? What did you see? Tell me, what did our last son die for?" She managed to choke out between wails.

"Hope, love. Hope." And with that, the old Zealot finally felt the weight of the past couple weeks come down on him like a plasma torpedo, and he clung to Junta desperately as she wailed for both of them as their twin shadows grew longer from the twin setting suns.


	5. Blades

_"We will grind them into dust."-_Sangheili Ultra's Mantra

_Chapter 4_

_Forerunner Orbital Laboratory, Star System J729 Uncharted, 2136 hours October 3rd 2586_

Rhokte kept a very respectable distance between himself and the Oracle known as Unyielding Metal, not wishing to intrude on the personal space of the Messenger of the Gods, while drinking in every word that the holy Oracle spoke to him.

"As you can see we have continued to keep this research platform in pristine shape over the many thousands of years. My Creators were adamant that this facility remain in prime condition once their children returned so that they may properly inherit their lost legacy."

Rhokte felt an invisible hand tighten on his throat as he dared to speak to the Oracle. "Holy one," he managed to choke out, "what diving creations did the Gods make here?"

Unyielding Metal let out a synthetic laugh and buzzed around Rhokte's head as he prepared his answer. "This particular facility was established to research and develop controlled directional magnetic and plasma fields. Many of the weapons that you carry I can see are inspired directly from much of the technology here. These," Metal played a soft light along the quadruplet of plasma grenades that attached to Rhokte's waist, "in fact were one of the first inventions by the Makers. Very effective, although hardly the crowning development."

Rhokte was now intrigued, "May I inquire, Holy One, what were some of the later divinations of the Gods?"

Unyielding Metal hummed a soft tune as the pair approached a large blast door and let out a beam of light that split the twin doors apart. "In later years of development, my Creators developed a fascination with being able to control and direct a plasma field in a fixed shape. So many of the alloys and materials used in construction of various facilities were practically impervious to all but the highest energy states, hence plasma research being a key developmental technology to aid in construction."

Rhokte slowed slightly as he absorbed this new bit of information and his hand went to hover and fondle the energy blade that hung, deactivated, on his hip. "So the Gods were seeking effective means to develop plasma cutting utilities. Like...a blade or a sword?"

_Years ago..._

"Father, what is that you wear on your hip?" A young voice chimed from within the 'Antra household. Without turning his head, Crtas angled his left eye towards his son that had walked into his small study within their family home. Unlike most other species, sangheili had the ability to independently move either eye without having to move their entire head. A unique trait found normally in "prey" species, it proved incredibly advantageous in stealth operations in that one could scan an entire area without having to move their head. The less movement the better, and the less opportunity to attract attention.

Rhokte was still very young, only six years by human standards, but had grown and developed quickly. Living in the high-gravity of sangheilios had caused him to develop an above-average musculature and stronger than normal skeletal and cardiovascular system than the human norm. Even in his youth he had developed an extremely toned musculature, sporting well defined abs, arms and chest, and a tanned skin tone courtesy of the twin suns of Sangheilios. While shorter than a sangheili child, he possessed a remarkably strong sense of will.

Crtas and Junta had jointly decided that home-schooling the child was the best, feeling that he would be shunned and immediately cast out in any sangheili school. Not that they had any doubt that he could hold his own from a bully, but that they wanted to be sure he got the best education and advantage possible. The Gods only knew that he would need every advantage to succeed when an entire world was against him, and he and Junta were in the middle.

Crtas motioned a slender finger towards the barbell-shaped item that hung on his left thigh, "this, Son, is the honor and soul of the Sangheili. It is a representation of the warrior's code, our honor, our strength." Rhokte had never seen Father with the shiny item before, adorned with various glyphs and writings, it was beautiful. He had seen father practice alone in the fields, wielding the item and a long glowing light that danced from his hand for what had been hours on end many times before. Rhokte oftentimes just watched his father, mesmerized by the colors and dazzling displays. Without thinking he reached out to touch it, and his hand was promptly slapped away followed by a growl from his father.

"Never touch this! Ever!" Rhokte rubbed his sore palm from the offending hand, fighting back a tear from the harsh slap he received from his father. Father had always been a strict and loving force in his life, and he never became angry unless he were grossly offended. Confusion and fear warped across Rhokte's face as he backed away, a sniffle escaping his lips.

Seeing his son's fear, Crtas came down to one knee to be eye level with his son and spoke in a softer tone, but he openly kept the hilt of his sword obstructed from Rhokte's view. "It is something sacred, my son. Something that only the worthy may ever hold. If one unworthy were to attempt to wield the symbol of sangheili honor, it would be a blasphemy. Do you understand?" Rhokte bobbled his head up and down in an affirmative.

Father had used the word blasphemy before in more than one instance to refer to things that were only ever evil, and while he did not entirely understand what father had meant, he understood enough that there would be dire consequences if he did. He was, after all, still a mere child. Looking back up and staring into his father's eyes, he asked perhaps one of the boldest of his life. "How then, father, do I prove myself worthy?"

Crtas smiled at his son's perseverance and strength. Instead of crying or showing signs of disappointment at being denied his curiosity, he instead had opted for the one path that was still and always open, _earning_ what he wanted. He considered it a few moments, and eyed his son from head to toe. He was strong, athletic and possessed a warrior's fire, but it had to be tempered to make it strong. Raising himself back up to his full height he turned and retrieved a long box that was hidden on a shelf well out of Rhokte's reach.

Rhokte was instantly curious about the box, or more specifically what was within. Father never spoiled him, but when he gave him a gift, it was for a purpose and always well thought out. "Your mother would have my head if she knew I was about to do this with you, but seeing as how you're old enough to ask questions and have the desire to earn your place, I see no reason to wait any further." Crtas motioned for Rhokte to follow him as he walked out to the patio. Wordlessly, father and sun strode outside. Rhokte squinted against the blazing light of the twin suns, the heat was easily over 120 degrees fahrenheit, so he wore only a light mesh style shirt and shorts along with loose sandals.

Hearing a clicking sound he saw that father had opened the box, inside contained two identical curved metal shapes that directly resembled the glowing item that he had seen father practice with. Crtas picked up one of the practice blades and offered it hilt-first to his son. Rhokte reached out but then instantly drew his hand back, memories of the stinging slap still fresh in his mind as he looked up to his father. Crtas gently waved the hilt of the blade toward his son in an encouraging manner. "We shall practice every day for at least two hours. You shall not handle the blade without me. You shall not do anything except what I tell you not to do. Most importantly, you will _not tell your mother._"

Rhokte choked back a nervous laugh as he gingerly reached out and felt the weight of the blade in his hand. Crtas leaned down and adjusted his son's grip on the hilt, working his small fingers around the blade. It was not a full sized blade, only about half the size of what warriors trained on otherwise his son would not be able to get his fingers around the hilt. It still had weight though and was balanced perfectly. His fingers now adjusted, Rhokte looked to his father as he hefted the other blade that was considerably larger.

"Watch, and follow," Crtas took a fighting stance, his legs shoulder width apart, the tip of the blade at a ready stance. Rhokte mirrored his father, the weight of the blade feeling clumsy in his hand, and the tip shook slightly under his strain. Crtas noticed this but his son would adapt, given time he would build strength and speed. He had to, his son's survival and legacy counted on it.

"Now, let us begin..."


	6. Kaidon's and Killers

_A/N: I keep meaning to put out an update, but I keep making excuses, so enjoy!-_Outreach117

_Sanghelios, Vadam City, September 21st 2579_

"Keep close to me, son. Do not wander far," Crtas's authoritative voice rumbled as he and Rhokte passed through the buzzing markets in Vadam City. The family trio of Crtas, Junta and Rhokte had taken a small family trip to the neighboring city and were going to be in town for at least a few days. For Junta, it was a chance for her and Rhokte to bond and spend some time as mother and son. For Crtas, it meant meeting some dignitaries of House Vadam and Antra do discuss his son's future. Outwardly, he appeared his ever confident and stolid self, the infallible shield that was the demeanor of a seasoned Zealot. Inwardly, he was a mess.

He had confided with Junta the night before that he feared greatly for his son's future. Rhokte may be his adopted son, but he was still human and to quote a human phrase, "stuck out like a sore thumb." Even passing through the benevolent markets of Vadam City, onlookers nudged each other and whispered, motioning towards the alien boy. Even though the Human-Covenant war had been over for more than a decade, human visitors to Sanghelios were a rarity and almost always were military personnel or diplomats. There had been much wake made by the adoption of a human child into the House of Antra, and even though Rhokte was now over thirteen Earth-years in age, Crtas and Junta were still fighting an uphill battle with constant evaluations by not only the Kaidon of Antra, but other houses too. While Antra's Kaidon had made it clear that he would tolerate the young human, he also made it clear that Rhokte would be graded equally as any other sangheili and would live or die based on those evaluations alone. The cold hard reality was that Rhokte, for all of his achievements, couldn't hope to match those expectations.

Even with a fighting spirit that Rtas 'Vadum described as "indomitable" after an especially grueling sparring match with Rhokte, doubts still abounded. A few weeks prior the Kaidon of House Vadum had demanded that Rhokte be evaluated for "growth and progression" and had sent the fabled Spec-Ops Commander to personally evaluate the young boy that was now becoming a young adult. The result of the session left Rhokte with a few broken ribs and concussed, and Rtas sporting a few bruises about his face, and almost had lost another mandible in a desperation move by Rhokte. The result was that Rhokte got his endorsement by House Vadum, and also the private support of Rtas to assist with the latter stages of Rhokte's training.

The endorsement was a good thing, the offer to assist with training was not. It was clear by Rhokte's performance that he had the skills and aptitude and spirit to fight alongside sangheili. What he lacked was the sheer physique and size that sangheili had over humans. Rtas was over nine feet tall and weighed in excess of 350 pounds, all of it fighting muscle. Rhokte was barely five and a half feet tall and a mere 150 pounds as an adolescent, and was lucky to have come out of that match with his life. It was clear that Rtas had held his punches, and only gave his recommendation based on the tenacity of his opponent and that if he had been facing a true sangheili, Rtas would have been the one leaving the sparring floor in a sling. The offer for additional training was really more of a gesture to save face, because it was becoming quite clear that comparatively speaking, Rhokte's human stature was going to be the end of him, unless something drastic was done.

This was the reason for the family visit for Vadam City. The sangheili needed a human Reclaimer, but no _normal_ human could hope to meet the stringent adherence of sangheili warrior training. Now the Demons, _Spartans_, as they called themselves, they had the potential. House Vadam needed a Spartan of their own, and this visit had the promise to create just that.

The trio approached the base of Vadam Fortress, the family home and Citadel for the entire Vadam Family. The Honor Guards in their ornamented armor slipped aside to allow the three to enter, but the harsh glares they gave were unmistakable. Rhokte was undisturbed by this and kept his head high and eyes straightforward as they marched into the keep. Rhokte for his part felt marveled by the massive fortress. All along the walls there were pieces of armor, murals and glyphs, each telling a story, and more than one set of battered Arbiter armor hung like a badge of glory in the immense hall.

Sitting atop the massive stairwell on an armored and ornamented throne sat the Kaidon of House Vadam, an elder warrior named Shrano. He was by all accounts a shrewd warrior who knew how to dance to the tune of the traditionalists, but was not so caught up and blinded by tradition that he ignored a potential opportunity. As the trio ascended the stairs toward the Kaidon, a black ball began to form in Rhokte's stomach. He had never actually met the Kaidon before, but father had been adamant to maintain the utmost level of respect and reverence for the ranking member of his House. As they approached the throne, Crtas and Junta immediately fell prostrate on their hands and knees, Rhokte quickly imitated and bowed as well.

Shrano kept ominously quiet as he eyed the human child up and down. He was indeed a scrawny example of the human specimen, yet the stories he had heard of an indomitable spirit were the thing of legend among some of the other House elders. He grunted out a greeting in the deep warbled tones of the Sangheili language as he rose from his throne, but did not give permission for the three to stand. Standing to his full nine foot height, he slowly and deliberately strode over to the still kneeling boy who barely came up to his knees.

"Rise, small one and tell me your name," he commanded. Rhokte gritted his teeth at the command but kept quiet as he rose to stand on both feet. "Small one" had become a very common derogatory term by many of the sangheili children, and he hated feeling small. Worse, knowing that his head barely broke even with the belly of the Kaidon that loomed over him, it was very true.

"I am Rhokte Vadam, adopted son of House Vadam and Zelaot Crtas Vadam." Rhokte spoke slowly and deliberately, ensuring that his pronunciation of the language was clear and impeccable. Even though he had been born and raised to speak the sangheili tongue, it was still very difficult to pronounce in many cases, and in some instances certain words were completely impossible to say.

"You are very small, and unimpressive. By what right have you to say that you are a member of this House?" Shrano tested the boy's response, and his calmness with another probing insult.

A hiss escaped Rhokte's lips as he replied, "I have accepted and passed the tests on the path on which the House has set me on. I am Vadam." The gritted teeth and response did not escape the notice of Shrano. Crtas for his part kept quiet and completely impassive. Any action on his part in defense of his son would be seen as weakness, an attempt to hide any shortcomings. Junta merely wished to disappear into the floor.

"You are very spirited, small one. Your anger amuses me. Tell me, does spirit alone win battles? Does spirit alone lead warriors in combat?"

Rhokte took a deep, calming breath, not letting the condescending tone get the better of him. "Spirit alone, Lord, is not enough. But neither is strength or brilliance. A warrior of Sanghelios needs all three."

"Then it would appear to me, small one, that you are unworthy. Do you disagree?" Shrano's mandibles curved into the slightest of smiles as he watched the young human squirm under the questioning.

"I am at a disadvantage for now, Lord. I will get stronger, I will be worthy. I _AM_ worthy." Rhokte finished his statement firmly and in a defiant act that could be punishable by death, looked upwards and into the eyes of his Kaidon. _If I should die now, it will be with dignity and bravery_, Rhokte's mind mentally noted as the Kaidon condescendingly looked down at him from almost four feet above him.

Rhokte's response was hardly disappointing to the shrewd Kaidon, and Shrano allowed a small chuckle to escape his throat. "Perhaps, we may be surprised yet, small one." Turning his attention to Crtas and Junta, he motioned for them to stand, and then looked down again towards Rhokte.

"You will remain here young one. You will walk the walls of the keep, study the sacrifices and achievements of your predecessors, and how you plan to prove your worth among them." Wordlessly the Kaidon turned and motion for Crtas and Junta to follow him, while Rhokte took a small breath and marvelled at the murals, arms and armors of Vadam's greatest.

Passing through a set of sliding doors and into the inner sanctum, Shrano finally addressed his remaining two guests. "Your adopted son has spirit and courage, of this I have no doubt. He cannot help it, it is in his blood."

Crtas spoke first, "he is of indomitable and unwavering spirit, Lord."

"Yes, but we both know that this is not enough." Shrano turned to face his two guests, and spoke evenly and openly. "Crtas, let us dispense with the formalities. It has been over forty of our years since we were in the same clutch together. We fought many battles together, we bled together, and saw many of our brethren die at our side.

"I allowed your adoption of Rhokte because I believed you when you said he would provide strength and an advantage over other Houses, and for the greatness of Sanghelios itself. I have only ever been able to count on one thing from you aside from the fact you never failed in a mission, you were always the rebellious and unorthodox one. More and more the other Elders are pushing for the end to this...experiment...as some of them call it in the politest terms I have heard in court."

Crtas growled openly, clearly offended. "He is not an experiment, he is..."

"Your atonement, your penance. I know, his name says it all. But your penance will be put to a slow, painful death. I allowed it not because I felt I owed you personally any favor. I would have been entirely within my right to have ordered the child returned to the humans or simply disposed of when you first brought him home. I would not have been questioned by anyone if I had done so."

Crtas blinked as he stared at his old friend, and his hand trailed perilously close to the sword that hung inert on his hip. In a surprisingly friendly move, however, Shrano reached out and placed a four fingered hand on Crtas's shoulder. "Please, old friend. Do not misinterpret my words. You wanted a chance to bring change into this universe, and I agree with you, just not for the same reasons. You wanted to the way we sangheili perceive humans to change. What I want is best for the future of all of Sanghelios.

"We both know that the Forerunners have restricted their most glorious constructs for use specifically to the humans. The reasons are completely unknown to us, but this is the fact. How many holy guardians did we fight off together on fruitless missions to recover valuable artifacts? How many of our brethren would have been alive today had a human been on those missions? Too many."

Passing through another set of double doors, Shrano waved a hand over a security lock that sampled and processed in a millisecond a complete DNA security sampling, fingerprint and image recognition of the Kaidon. An inner vault unlocked, and inside lay a metal bed, surrounded by various tubings and chemicals that Crtas could not hope to identify. Junta, however, immediately hissed and stepped back into Crtas.

"No, husband! Please! Do not let him! We do not know enough about the procedure, our son will die!" She screamed into his arms while Crtas looked confused at his Kaidon.

Shrano spoke again, slowly and softly to Junta. "Younger sister, if you do not try, he will be dead in another year."

Crtas spoke again, "I do not understand, wife. What is all this?" He motioned towards the array of medical equipment.

Junta gulped air, and looked back and forth from her oldest and only brother, and her only love while her mind raced through memories of her only surviving son. "Some years ago, we recovered portions of a human ship, named the _Hopeful_. Inside, it contained various bits of medical equipment that we had no understanding of, that is until we autopsied some of the deceased Spartans at Pegasi Delta." Crtas's eyes went wide as realization dawned on him of what exactly they had in this room.

Junta pointed to a canister, "8942-LQ99, carbide ceramic ossification catalyst." Another, "88005-MX77, fibroid muscular protein complex." And another, "retina-inversion stabilizer." And Another, "87556-UD61, used to increase reaction time and nerve speed.

"Husband, these are the chemicals and equipment used by the humans to make their Demons. If we attempt it, it will most likely kill him. But if we don't..."

"He will die for sure. But what if the elders find out?" The question was aimed a Shrano.

"Then all involved would be summarily executed. This is why you and Junta must perform this, and perform this alone. Should anyone find that you created your own Demon, the backlash from other Houses would destroy Vadam. If you refuse, all three of you will be dead before the end of this year. I am sorry, sister, but this is how it must be.

"Make us a Demon...or die in the attempt."


End file.
